The Elements that lie Beneath
by NickeltheRed
Summary: Super humans are just more evolved, nothing else right? Some say differently. A secret threat lost in history resurfaces that causes tensions between friends to rise. Things seem darker and dire than years before. WarrenLayla.
1. Secrets in Science

**I don't own anything involving the original **_**Sky High **_**film. **

**Reviews would be greatly appreciated!**

* * *

**Prologue**

**Ioannina, Greece**

* * *

Doctor Edmund T. Walker, the retired man who was snatched so carelessly from his bed the previous night, had once spent the majority of his days working in the country's best Research Test Center. He studied the science of Genetics: reviewing the molecular structure, the role of DNA segments, and the gene behavior settling in the form of a cell or a single organism.

And because of his vast knowledge in that specific art, he was eventually hired by several governmental figures teamed together from around the globe to determine what _exactly_ creates Super humans—to distinguish the difference between the heredity behind a common human and a Super one.

But naturally, there was a catch to this specific favor asked—the public was not to know of this upcoming investigation, and certainly not the Superkind either. The government's given excuse was that they didn't want to risk civilians willingly throwing themselves in toxic waste in hopes of obtaining Super abilities. Moreover, they held no intentions of _offending_ the Supers by examining them like road kill. Walter's work, therefore altogether, was strictly covert out of the protection of society as a whole.

And after some time of consideration and the right type of persuasion, Walker had agreed to the daunting task in the end, due to the plentiful benefits he would be personally rewarded for his success.

So, bodies of deceased, fallen Heroes had been collected by the administrators, and then were secretly rolled into his new lab quarters when the usual Nationwide Hero Memorial Services faded. Though, of course, Walker suspected they lived in fear of an alternative possibility. If by chance, his work would plop into hands of any Super—a Hero or Villain alike—their world as they known it would resort back to the Old World ways.

Hence, like they all assumed, Walker's data had confirmed their uncertainties correct. Their gene was very archaic. Supers have existed among the common people for centuries, perhaps even eras prior. Overtime, the reappearing concepts emerging out of the doctor's examinations forced him to turn to additional documents covering supernatural links for more advanced answers...such as Homer, the East Indian forms of meditation, and Egypt's famous Book of Dead scrolls.

See, there had been indeed an age, a period in history, when Super humans were acknowledged to be so much more than merely genetic mutants. They were viewed as remarkable beings who had the will to obtain cults of followers if they even wished for it.

And there Walker was now, locked away in a lonely prison cell underneath a lair. A lair which was assembled out of iron, dark red marble, and volcanic rock. Its entrances were safeguarded by the ancient statues of his captures' ancestors, and was located near the very base of Mount Olympus.

* * *

**Thanks for the reader's time!**


	2. Reconsiderations

**Just as a side note: "Noelia Collins" is the film's _Freeze Girl_. I merely personally felt that the surname_ Freeze_ or_ Frost_ was too unoriginal for me. Although, her full name still roughly translates to _Christmas Holly, _indicating that she's still a winter child.**

* * *

"_With the sour, we would never taste the sweet." _—Kate West, pg. 187, _Lemons_ chapter.

* * *

"Hey." When Layla had finally caught sight of him standing in the west locker corridor, she approached him straightforwardly, and with great valor. "Why were you avoiding my calls?"

Warren closed his locker door with a sharp thud when he heard her speak up on the other side. "What are you on about?"

"I called you three times this weekend, Warren." she elucidated, slowing her voice a little to make every syllable count. "You didn't even bother checking in after."

Warren shrugged. And before slinging his book bag over his left shoulder, making his casual way for the nearest exit, he muttered, "I was busy. Work."

"That excuse is getting old," chided Layla as she trailed him outside, crossing the school's front courtyard towards the side parking lot that was only permitted to the use of staff and seniors for their additional transportation. "Did Will say something about it? Were you ingoring me because you already knew what I wanted to ask you?"

(That sounded like something he would pull off.)

Once they finally reached the end slot, where sat his new black Harley with wild flames painted on its tail plate and rocket barrels framing its engine, Layla stood her ground. Sulking in a silent protest, she watched Warren mount the bike, letting it purr before preparing it to take launch.

Layla also knew that Ron couldn't hold the bus waiting for entirely too long after classes let out. So, whatever lecture she had formulated to hurl out at Warren, it would have to be said quickly. Or she'd miss her own ride home. "Warren, you're _always_ at work, _and_ you're _graduating_ this week. You understand this may be the last summer we'll all get to spend time with you as freely as we do now, don't you?"

Sighing in what almost seemed like defeat, he slumped forward, hanging his tattooed wrists hang over the handlebar. "Please, don't get so melodramatic. I'm not moving off the planet, Hippie."

Layla shot back, "I won't have to get melodramatic if you'd just come to the beach party celebration I'm hosting. I want _all_ of my friends to be there before another year of growing up starts. And if you refuse to accept, I'll be one friend short in that goal, and I won't be pleased... You can even bring someone if you want."

Warren asked himself why would he bring someone if he wasn't going in the first place? "I don't have anyone to bring."

Her head cocked to the side. "Really?"

"Well, who're _you_ going with? Stronghold?" he bickered.

"No, everyone."

"I still can't believe you two split up."

"Hey," she pointed a reproachful finger at his chest. "If you don't recall...we were happily together for the past last year and half. That's pretty healthy for a first-time high school relationship. And really, it can't be helped if mine and Will's workload and personal schedules slowed things down overtime." It was actually quite fortunate or her and Will to have their friendship before they shifted into an official relationship. Layla still felt blessed to know that their bond would never dwindle despite everything. Because if they we're best friends primarily, she wasn't certain that they could ever act just as civil and supportive nowadays too. At least, their breakup had been mutual and not hostile. "And what about you, hothead? You went out with Noelia Collins for what, a month after Homecoming? Then you broke it off."

"Our workload and personal schedules slowed things down overtime." The mocking roll of Warren's dark eyes just then had been all too evident, and his gritted teeth gnashed at her. "But, back on topic, I still _don't do_ beaches."

"What do you have _against_ beaches?"

And why did all of their conversations have to clash and collide into rather heated, blazing banters? No pun intended.

"I'm surprised you _don't_ have anything against them."

Her hand sprung to the curve of her hip. "What does that supposed to mean?"

Warren probably could tell whether she was mentally torn how to react to his resent remark, and he immediately explained, "I just meant with your innate Green Attitude, I'm just baffled that the stories you hear about hopeless washed-up animals that have kids with sticks poking at them don't raise your concern."

"Nope." Layla shook her head, now smiling in modest pride. "Already ahead of you—I did my homework. This beach is manmade by a local wilderness protection program with the finest of white sand, and it's appropriately landcaped to prevent just that."

However, Warren still didn't look any more captivated by her invitation than minutes before. "Hm. That doesn't change anything."

"But you still haven't given me a reasonable and truthful answer as to why you won't come!"

Warren was just about the one and only senior this year who wasn't fussing over details of throwing a grad party. That obviously wasn't his thing. Layla recalled him mentioning that his summer tradition was more focused on the Fires of Beltane Festival held out of town during May Day. But all the same, she knew he would return in time for the graduation ceremony, and afterwards he planned to quit at the Paper Latern to prepare taking on the real world once and for all. Hence, his break would even be less eventful. There was nothing to hold him back from attending to her summer bash yet.

"I did. Twice, actually. I don't like beaches."

Alright, by this point, their argument was starting to round about in a worthless circle. What was more, Warren had grown too sensitive over this subject, which was completely out of his collected character. And not from a poetic perspective, no, it was sensitivity that was similar to paranoia. It wasn't as if she asked him to dress in socks and sandals, with a hula shirt while slurping on a cooled blended-fruit drink. He very well could sit on a rock of his own, reading a book the entire afternoon by himself for all she cared. Just as long as he there in person.

Then, suddenly, an idea struck Layla. Was he...? Maybe it wasn't the beach itself that he resented. Maybe it was a part of what made up the beach. She pursed her lips in sympathy. "Oh...I see."

"See what?" Warren's brow furrowed the following moment, dreading just what secret she may reveal.

"Well, I really can't blame you for it," she assured, raising her hands before him as a signal of submission. "I guess it'd only be natural if you are a little _hydrophobic_."

His mouth parted as another defensive remark slid its way up his throat, but Layla cut him off by ranting on again. "But okay, I still have a few days to plan. There are no definite details yet, so, no beach. What about a campground? Huge fire pit, stargazing, roasting chestnuts and marshmallows. Everything that's pyro-friendly—then you'll come, right?"

Warren blinked.

He could hardly believe Layla at times. The way she worked through her sense of humanity to make certain everyone turned out happy, could indeed be overbearing. Even after nearly two years since they'd met, there were days when he wasn't convinced that Layla had matured in the least. "Wait, Hippie, I never promoted you to change anyth—"

"Oh look, there are the guys. See ya then, Warren!" And with that, she turned fleetingly on her heel, sprinting towards Will and Zach, who were beckoing for her in the distance.

And there were times, in his presence, Layla wouldn't ever permit him to finish one wretched sentence—which narrowed down to very limited choices on his part.

* * *

**...From I've seen so far, it appears as if only about 3% of Sky High fans actually agree with how the writers the film's ending. These two really had more chemistry.**

**And don't quote me on this, but I read somewhere online a while back, that the writers had planned on writing them getting together somehow in a sequel script years ago, though due to budget-cuts they never went through with the rest of it. Then again, lol, don't believe every leaked rumor posted on the thing we call the internet. **


	3. Over an Open Fire

**The short _italic_ portion in the middle represents a flashback between Warren and his mother.**

* * *

A full week had passed. And during that time, the year's senior class (Warren's class) had recently graduated as scheduled, and now it was a few weeks into the summer holiday already. The weather on June 21st, the day of Layla's celebration, was exceptionally beautiful. The warmth had been exceedingly comfortable, not scorching hot, and the breeze was just gentle enough to not become a nuisance.

The chosen campground by Layla was settled inside a ring of merging oak and pine. One canopy tent had been arranged by Zach and Magenta to shelter the food tables, while another was used as a parking lot marker. Thick vacant logs were rolled in by Will to act as benches around the large stone fire pit resting in the center of the clearing.

"Wow." Ethan piped up suddenly, glancing at his watch after flattening cotton blankets over the rocky patches of dried soil. "It feels earlier than it is. It's almost night time, and the sun's barely setting."

Layla merely laughed. "Of course, it's the Solstice today. It's the longest day and shortest night of the whole year. The sun is at the peak of its power."

Letting the last log slam to the ground, Will ridded the dirt from his palm on his jeans, and he smiled too. "And only a Flower Child like _you_ would know a thing like that, Layla."

"Oh, _Whatever_," she remarked, swatting his chest playfully when he strolled past her. Then Layla returned to coaxing the wildflower vines to nicely coil around the tent poles for an appealing sense of decoration.

"So, the four of us are already here, and Larry sent me a message saying he'll make it a little after dark with some other friends from school. What time did Warren say he was coming?"

Layla bit her lip, humming a short bland tune. "He didn't actually say he was coming."

"Really?" Zach rejoined in on the discussion when he sank down on the log beside Magenta and Ethan. "And I thought he was over and done with his daily crankiness after hanging with us more."

Magenta on the other hand, simply shrugged as usual, offering him a cooked bratwurst forked by her charred iron prong. "Old habits die hard. Basic psychology, you know?"

It was surely agreeable that Warren had always been a sort of wildcard, even when he settled on becoming their close friend. But Layla accepted that fact. She, or anyone for that matter, was always free to make predictions concerning Warren Peace, though there had to be enough room left over to expect the unexpected from him just as well. She personally had learned that freshman year. Yes, there'd been plenty of times when they teased Warren as friends would...or when she would persuade him to do things. But honestly, Layla knew better than not to bother him for too long. Nudging him to the point where he would physically flame-up was certainly out of the question. Playing with fire was not always meant to be fun and games. Warren _was_ wild at heart though, and that was just how he was. Secretive and alluring, untamable and vicious, yet brilliant and incredible. That was how fire was supposed to be, after all.

Ever since she was a child, Layla had framed her own philosophy about one's Super powers. In most cases, the power corresponded to the figure's personality and life style. (Without the occasional radioactive mishaps, Layla believed a born Super human's personality was not designed to fit their ability, but in fact, _Destiny_ had given them their powers to fit their own person.) To ask Warren to cease being a perfect parallel to the fire element, would be like someone else asking her to not be one with the earth.

* * *

However, the evening was moved along once more peers arrived. They fed more wood to the flames to make them expand, seeing that darkness was at last making an effort to settle in overhead. The first stars of the night began to gleam and show themselves through the twilight colors. Until, or even if, Warren would arrive, they would have to deal with stoking the fires themselves.

It had been another hour or so yet, before Layla recognized the hollow rumble of a motorcycle landing upon the pathway nearby. Taking a moment in turning away from the group of giggling girls beside her, Layla watched Will, Zach, and Ethan trot up to Warren, who was just in the process of removing his helmet. The boys finished their hellos, did their fleeting clap on the shoulder bit, but then the three redirected themselves over to Zach's new, but very old-styled 90's car, in which he'd independently planted a sound-speaker system in its trunk. After Zach fiddled around with the dials, he soon produced a steady electronic beat to flow across the clearing. And Will and Ethan shook their heads as Zach went on glowing, cheering and dancing idiotically in the background.

Warren meanwhile, had made the rest of his way up to those who were circled round the fire pit. He briefly scanned the collection of familiar faces until he spotted Layla half-propped up by her elbows, her legs crossed and stretched out before her on a blanket.

"Hey, Cutie," she flashed a spirited smile, inviting him over, "you came."

He scoffed, reclining back on her blanket as well, his voice gruff as ever, "I thought we talked about that pet-name of yours."

"Oh, I know we have. Although, to be only fair, I've argued about "Hippie" in the past too, and so far you haven't been letting that one go. And you know me, I believe in equal rights."

Warren averted his eyes then, aiming them on the fire. "Hmph."

She chuckled then. "But the good news is that you took pity on me again, and showed up."

"Wait, what? When have I _ever_ taken pity on you?"

"Oh, come on," continued Layla, playing her next words innocently. "Are we gonna go over the events of Homecoming again? Why would a guy like you even agree on taking a girl like me to the dance...even though it was a scheme? Would you have sat in my booth if I wasn't on the verge of crying my eyes out?"

He honestly sounded highly impressed by this. "After a year and a half...you're asking about that now?"

"What can I say?" Layla added, nodding slowly, "I'm also a curious soul."

* * *

_Angeline knocked on this bedroom door. "Warren?"_

_Lounging on his bed, with light rock playing in the background, Warren looked up from that week's novel in his lap. "Yeah Mom, come in."_

_She entered his room then at his approval, pulling a familiar tuxedo in along with her. It swayed on its coat hanger in response to her current motion. "Here, I wanted you to have something to wear tomorrow night. I just ironed it." _

_Warren eyed the suit, almost crestfallen. He remembered straightaway that his father wore that exact suit on the night of his fifth birthday after coming home from long hours what he'd called "work." And his mother now was in the process of hanging it in his own closet. "No, Mom, that's really not neces—" _

"_Warren," she cut in, holding up her hand. "I'm always here to listen to what you have to say, you know that. But, right now, listen to me. Layla—this nice girl, the Earth Elemental, that you mentioned of briefly—did not judge you like others have before, and has invited you to Homecoming with her. And that's why told me you wouldn't go against your word and ditch her like an old hat. If you're willing to do that much, why not walk the whole mile?"_

"_Mom, don't go there...," he pleaded, knowing it wouldn't do any more good to inform her of the real intentions behind his and Layla's arrangement. He figured it'd be best to slightly improvise. "We're not even going as a couple. We're just going as fri...," (maybe that term was still too bold to say) "...acquaintances."_

_Unfazed by her son's correction, Angeline pressed on._ "_Even so...dress for the occasion. Wear it in thanks. Maintain the peace, my son. Don't ruin the chance for gaining your first true friend over such a small thing." _

_Having the early-retired Heroine, Lady Peace, for his mother made it difficult sometimes to hold on tight to the negative feelings that felt simpler to carry._

"_Rright, Mom."_

* * *

Warren's following expression already reflected a hint of regret for letting her have something she could possibility play against him in the future. "You're an open person. You're rarely hypercritical of others."

"_That's_ why?"

He exhaled heavily. "Look...I sat down with you _because_ you asked me to...even when everyone in school talked about my reputation. You greeted me politely even after I almost fried the guy you liked within the same week in the cafeteria. That's rare to find in a person, especially in friends of other people. You never went along with his opinion no matter what he meant to you. It'd would've mattered if your plan worked out or not. I don't think I would've gotten rid of you anyways."

So, her initial theory was true. He had trusted her utterly from the very start, amazingly enough. A few additional minutes of silence fell between them as Magenta made another one of her rounds, offering everyone drinks from Ethan's travel cooler. She was still trying everything she could to avoid Zach who was after her for a dance all night.

Though, Layla sooner or later, edged up to an alternative topic. "Ah...are you looking forward to your first official Hero Mission? Wouldn't it be cool if you were shipped over to somewhere like Paris? See the Eiffel Tower? No wait—Hong Kong! They'd love you over there!"

"I don't really now." Warren shrugged and shifted a bit uneasily.

"What do you mean you don't know? You will be an amazing Hero, Warren! Sure, you may feel nervous on your first day, but that's true for any career."

"Do you always have to sound so chipper?"

"Well again, I just can't see why you're not acting any differently when you are about to take on a huge life-change."

"That's because...I don't think I am."

And that certainly had been the night's dramatic turning point.

"What?"

"I don't think I _want_ to be a Hero, Hippie," Warren confessed, shifting a second time. "I don't think I ever did. Not really."

"Warren, if you're not going to become a Hero, then what are you going to do with yourself?"

"I thought about hitting the road," he admitted next. "Travel around without those responsibilities and the consequences."

"But then, tell me, what _exactly_ did you go Sky High for?" Layla ridiculed.

"Hey look, don't reprimand me! Sky High was not built to assure that every graduate will grow into a celebrated Hero." he reminded sternly, his features hardening. "It's _made_ to assist Super humans in _controlling_ their given powers _and knowing_ when to use them at any given suitable time."

"Warren, by saying this, you are just degrading yourself! Things like Super powers cannot be a part of some random chance! We were born to do this! Generations of past Heroes are relying on us to pass on their legacy, to protect the innocent. Like your mother and my mother." Layla was obviously getting riled up, but to prevent from making a vivid scene, she kept her own firm tone in check. "It's_ who you are, _Warren_._ It's in your blood. No matter how much you deny it, there's always _one_ _thing_ a person can't run from it the end, and that's their own nature, what they are _meant_ to be. It always catches up to you...one way or another."

"Exactly," Warren growled as he stood up unexpectedly, causing Layla to angle herself away. Little bright sparks flittered out from his fingertips, either responding to his intensified mood or her piling retorts. "It's better for me to stay clear of that path, than for me to risk taking it at all."

Layla demanded her body to react quickly, in spite the hazy weight she was begging to feel in her mind. And before she knew it she had hurried him all the way to his bike, disregarding any puzzled bystanders completely. Layla managed to grip his sleeve. "Warren, I didn't mean it like that. You're a good man."

They both uderstood that was her way of stating,_ "You are not meant to become Barron Battle."_

"But you said it yourself, Layla. It's in me." he said. Twisting free from her hold, Warren had left her there, standing apprehensive and ever so distraught, waching him turn away. "And I can't run from that forever."


	4. The Battle Breaks Out

The prison guards forewarned Headquarters with such haste and panic, that the impulsive alert had been spread nationwide without further question.

News like this wouldn't be overlooked by anyone. No doubt every division of the National Press had taken immediate action to report the certain convict's baffling escape through print and audio means.

* * *

Later on, it was precisely 5:02a.m. when Will had unexpectedly barged into the entryway of the Wildbrush household, involuntarily bringing the front door askew off its hinges by his forcefulness. With one hand going to his left knee, and his other lifting to the wooden knot of the railing, he tried to catch his breath, calling up stairs.

Layla and her parents appeared at the top of the staircase, aroused from Will's shout of terror. All three of them were throwing bathrobes over their nightwear as they fled down towards him on the landing.

Her mother, Fauna, was actually the first to speak, _"Will, what is the meaning of this, what's the matter?"_

"I'm really—sorry—but my parents sent me over—," panted Will, motioning them into their living room, searching wildly for the remote control, which happen to be on the coffee table. "—all of you needed to see this."

Layla's heart was beginning to race merely by sensing how much Will was upset and bothered at the moment. She hadn't seen that particular look on his face since Gwen had just about demolished their school. "See what, exactly?"

"You're not gonna like it." replied Will, flicking on the television to the local newscast channel.

That morning's chosen news anchor, a very attractive dark-skinned woman with short, slick raven hair, had been already in the middle of highlighting the horrid details of the risen situation. But fortunately enough, Layla's family heard all they needed to understand.

On the bottom of the screen was a red bar flashing the words: _WARNING! Escaped Supervillain Convict!_ And behind the news anchor, up in the right hand corner was a picture of nether other than, Barron Battle, himself. Warren's infamous father.

Just then, Layla knew this was going to be greater and abundantly worse than Gwen ever transforming her foes into weeping infants.

"_...this watch has been claimed an official warning. The well-known Supervillain, Barron Battle has recently escaped from the world's highest-secured confinement hall. Also, a kidnapping has been reported to take place right after his Barron's breakout—a recently retired professor, by the name of Doctor Edmond Taylor Walter."_

Barron's mug-shot photo vanished from the greenscreen to be replaced by the doctor's I.D. license picture. Walter's was middle-aged, probably late thirties or early forties, pale and sharp featured. Hollow cheeks, thin chapped lips, a straight nose, and small almond eyes. His brown hair was sleek with grease as it parted oddly above his forehead.

"_...Battle's current whereabouts and intentions connected with the professor, however, are yet unknown. So, until then, our government representatives strictly advice Super and common citizens alike to stay on the lookout for any strangers in their area, or anything else out of the ordinary that may be worth reporting to the authorities... More possible information will be gathered by the P.D. before Heros out there will be requested to take over this matter alone."_

Layla couldn't just stand there any longer. _Action_, she told herself,_ do something_. Making for the telephone on the far wall, she nearly stumbled. "Will, we should call Warren. See if he's alright...o-or something."

Will frowned, approaching her gently. "Wait, Layla, we're not going to be able to reach him for the next few days."

"Why not?"

"Because, he's Barron's son. He and Angeline are going to be taken in to questioning, just to be sure they didn't hear anything."

"They're not to blame!"

"I know, but we can't argue with the Law." Will reminded, prying the lime-colored receiver from her stiff hand. "Besides, they both know how to play it smart. They'll be fine. We shouldn't get involved just yet. Besides, we all know the Peaces are innocent, and they've got nothing to hide."

Fauna cleared her throught and awkwardly excused her and her husband to go make a pot of tea.

Layla's hand dropped in defeat, and she allowed Will to pull her into his comforting embrace. Though, her mind continued to reel with unending questions. Like why was this happing? Why now, or why ever? This was the last thing Warren needed to happen. Warren was just weeks away from being assigned his first Hero Mission, and his father's breakout could certainly place a black mark on his record. There was nothing fair in this entire situation.

And on top of everything else, she didn't exactly leave things all that fantastic with him at the campsite. He had confided in her with something very private, and she didn't play the role of the so-called "open-minded person" he needed her to be that night two weeks prior. Would they lose Warren for good after this?

Layla tightened her hold on Will's jacket, silently thanking him for being there. She remembered just how enranged she'd become when Gwen deliberately tried to turn her against Will, and remembered just how wounded she was at mere thought of losing her best friend altogether.

But strangely enough, Layla couldn't remember back on a time when she had felt so hollow.

* * *

**Notes: I imagined Dr. Walter to resemble Harry Potter's talented actor, D****avid Tennant (Barty Crouch Jr.) **

**Also, I pictured Layla's mother, Fauna, had kept her name Wildbrush after marriage in her own right as a Heroine...given it Layla to Layla as the next generation. I know that Layla's _supposed_ surname is_ Williams_, but I didn't care to have Will (William) and her to basically share the name.**

**The next couple chapters are currently in progress. But due to technical difficulties, I'm forced to work from another computer and I do not have access to the documents saved to mine at the moment. I promise that I will update when I am able to do so.**

**Until then please, stay tuned!**


	5. Stubbornness

**Sorry for the wait, followers. School tends to get in the way.**

**But enjoy this next little chapter!**

* * *

**10:43p.m.**

Layla made her way down the dim hallways of her home, sensing the building fatigue triggered by the recent stress, settling itself deep within her.

Decent periods of sleep had not been easy to gain since Battle's hot breakout.

All Supers were trained and urged to challenge anything vile...but this was exceptionally nerve-racking for everyone. Even the confident-spoken Commander was caught in a worried daze once or twice during the past couple days. The entire town had grown more cautious about their whereabouts. It was like a Witch Hunt on light.

And she was _just_ about to head up the staircase, when a sudden echoing knock startled her.

Layla's head whirled towards the front door now, immediately pausing in place at the base of the steps, very alert-eyed. Her heart pounded. Since the Wildbrush household had been predesigned with all sun wall-wide windows to follow a full Green lifestyle...the various rooms inside had naturally darkened as the evening approached Maxville. Therefore, point was, it was basically impossible to turn on (nonexistent) the porch lights and peek outside to identify the person waiting on the other side.

Who at this hour would possibly wish to visit her, anyway? Layla didn't trust the current circumstance at all.

Within seconds the stranger knocked once again (and Layla jumped again) when hearing them speak up. "Hippie. It's just me, open up."

_"W-Warren?"_ Feeling a towering wave total relief hit her, Layla's shoulders relaxed dramatically as she hurried to unlock the newly-mended door. He strode in, moving her aside. "Do you know what time it is?"

Layla decided that was the most appropriate question to emit. For in its own way, it was forgiving enough for his late intrusion, and it covered the implied notion of as to know why he'd shown up in the first place.

Warren seemed a bit distracted though while he looked around the vacant corner, and only granted her a short unrelated response. "Are you alone tonight?"

"Yeah," Layla said. "...Dad left a couple hours ago on an emergency surgery call. And the vet's office also called mom to stay there for a time to coax all the animals down. Apparently they're all restless and on edge too, sensing the change in mood everywhere... But more importantly, why are you here?

"I was at the Strongholds' place most of the night, catching them up on things, but Will insisted I come to check in with you too before going back. He mentioned you've been out of sorts lately."

She snorted air, apparently unconvinced. Will Stronghold would never use the words_ 'out of sorts.' _In any right world, Will probably had told Warren that she was _acting bizarre. _Though, Warren naturally having a broadened terminology from reading so much, wouldn't ever offend her so openly. It was a dead-giveaway.

Warren continued, detecting she may have caught onto this, "Anyways...as long as I'm here, I have this bruise..." Warren shrugged off his biker's jacket, unveiling a purplish curved mark charred into the underside of his forearm. "Mrs. Stronghold told me to have you look at it." (Plus—he _really_ didn't want to fuss with hospital staff.)

Gasping, Layla seized his arm, angling it for better inspection under the shadows. "Were you..._Tasered_? By the authorities?"

"It was a misunderstanding."

Layla rolled her eyes, highly suspecting otherwise. "I'm sure it was. How would it even hurt you?"

"I'm immune to flame, not electric bolts."

* * *

Layla and Warren had migrated to the back of the house, aiming for her family's private Greenery Room. Or that's what a younger Layla had dubbed the indoor greenhouse area built adjacent to their kitchen as a child.

Warren currently sat on top of the steel washing counter next to the elongated sink, taking in his surroundings after she turned on a reading lamp nearby.

The rather exotic sight had caused him to realize that he'd only been to one part of Layla's house before—mostly which happened to be her bedroom on the gang's occasional movie nights.

Apart from the expected assembly of plants inhabiting the room, there were at least three tall wooden shelves pushed up the glass and marble walls. Two were packed top to bottom with various sizes of filled vials and jars. The last shelf held an entire collection of recipe books that seemed very used and very timeworn. To complete it all, the hovering air possessed a natural aroma of flowers and incense. It was more of a New Age remedy room than anything else.

Layla then reappeared from around the nearest vine-covered pillar with a circular stout tub in her hand.

"Here," she held the tub out before him, "this cream should help."

Warren gingerly took hold of the container himself, twisting the palm-sized cap off to find a thick, ivory substance sitting inside it, mixed with green shredded strands of some type of herb. And surprisingly it didn't smell as bad as looked, in which Warren was secretly thankful for.

Politely standing in front of him, Layla surveyed his actions without another word of bitterness. But as soon as she seen the dreadfully large amounts of the healing butter Warren had just gathered on his fingertips, she intervened on sheer instinct. She caught his wrist, glaring at him shrewdly. "Uh, let me do it."

Faintly confused as to what he'd done incorrectly, Warren found nothing to say when Layla re-grabbed the tub, scraping the majority of the butter from his hand, and only kept the amount she personally deemed necessary. Once she was finished, she spread it over his wound carefully. "It's an old recipe. The key ingredients are minced fern and home-grown aloe. You don't need that much since the aloe actually goes a long ways."

Warren was silent yet, merely watching her before she had reclosed the container. And as normal, this fact disappointed Layla to no end. Warren really, _really_ knew how to put the _in_ in _introvert_. "So, Peace...are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to vine you up in here and scare it out of you?"

"I have to be careful of what I tell you, though." Knowing her insightful and overly-interpersonal personality, Warren assumed she had been itching to ask him of what happened the past sixteen minutes.

"Why, are you being stalked or something?" Layla joked with him.

"Or something."

Her expression eclipsed just as fast. "What, seriously?"

Warren nodded. "Our house has been fully searched, and now it's under daily surveillance."

"Did anyone follow you into our neighborhood?" Layla couldn't help herself when she glanced towards the stillness behind her.

"No. I checked thoroughly before I left."

"Well," Layla sighed heavily, "and what of your mother?"

"Still held in for questioning. It was her choice to help them further in the investigation."

Layla did not know how to respond to this. So many phrases she could choose from, and all of them would just sound empty to him.

A quiet moment passed before Warren picked up the conversation from where it currently dropped. "You should go over to Stronghold's. You shouldn't be alone."

"Look. I realize you think I never act my age, but believe it or not, Warren, I'm a big girl. I don't need a babysitter."

"Then lock up things here and come to my place."

Layla however, wasn't ready to forfit any accountable protests she had left. "No, I'll be fine. Even if I know you, I'm not a likely target."

"These are becoming dangerous times, Layla! We can't afford to be so stubborn!"

"_Or_ we could stay _here_—" she emphasized sternly in spite of everything. "That way—the Strongholds can recuperate from all this drama before something else bad comes up. We're going to need the trio at their best. Besides, this way—we don't have to stay in a house where we'll be studied and recorded like lab rats all night."

He glowered.

And Layla just swatted at his knee before exiting the room. "Come on you, I have an extra futon in my room."


End file.
